


Celestial Navigation

by jomipay



Series: Teach me how to love you [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Airship courtship, Dating, Early Relationship, M/M, Stargazing, Wilde reaps the benefits, Zolf does some baking, airship dates, just really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jomipay/pseuds/jomipay
Summary: “Wait here.” Zolf says, sliding his fingers out of Oscar’s grip and going to retrieve the items he’d set aside earlier. He returns encumbered by furs and blankets, basket full of pastries perched on top of the blankets and wedged under his chin.Wilde is wearing an expression that can only be described as a sort of pleasant confusion as he watches Zolf spread the blankets and furs over the deck. He sits down and pats the space next to him and offers the basket to Oscar when he settles beside him.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: Teach me how to love you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055096
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	Celestial Navigation

**Author's Note:**

> Zolf and Wilde continue their airship courtship with a date of Zolf’s design. I just love them and want to give them nice things.

Zolf examines what’s left of his supplies in what passes for the kitchen of _The Vengeance_. They’d had to replace most of their stock, but some things managed to survive the crash relatively unscathed, if a bit cluttered. There’s enough to be getting on with. The flour and sugar had survived, and he’d gotten some butter and several jams and preserved fruits from the Ursines. He doesn’t have eggs, but he can work with that. He roots around for a serviceable bowl and a flat surface and sets to work carefully measuring and adding his ingredients in stages and mixing them together with clean hands to form a dough. 

He remembers slicing up fruits for Oscar at the inn. He knows which fruits are Oscar’s favorites because they were always the first to disappear from the plate. The apricots always went quickly, followed closely by the strawberries and other berries. He always left the apples, only picking at them absent-mindedly while working, hours after the rest of the fruit had been eaten. Zolf smiles to himself. Oscar doesn’t like apples. Zolf had been horrified to learn this particular tidbit of information. Zolf came from a community that loved and produced apples and apple derived products—apple pie, apple cider, apple sauce—abundantly and it was tantamount to blasphemy to dislike them.

_“They’re just so bland.”_

_“Bland?!” Zolf spluttered. “What the bloody hell are you on about.”_

_“I simply prefer other tastes.” Wilde waved him off. “And the skin,” Wilde grimaced unevenly, one side of his mouth remaining stubbornly stationary, “always gets stuck in your teeth.”_

_“Unbelievable.”_

Zolf had brought him a plate of only sliced apples once after they’d been fighting. He’d arranged them into the shape of a heart. All of the slices had more skin on them than anything else and Zolf would have slammed the plate down on his desk, but he didn’t want to ruin his craftsmanship. He set it down gently, and walked briskly from the room. He caught Wilde’s bark of laughter as he was halfway down the hall and failed to fight down his smile.

Zolf smiles at the memory. They do have plenty of apples on board. But the point of this isn’t to irritate Wilde, or to tease him. The point is in fact quite the opposite. He rifles through his jars of preserved fruit and jams as he lets the dough rest a bit. His eyes land on a jar of apricot jam and he seizes it, holding it aloft in victory. He rolls the dough out flat and cuts it into even squares, spooning dollops of jam into the center of each before folding the corners of each little pastry together. Oscar’s not picky about food, doesn’t remember to eat most of the time, but he does have a sweet tooth, and Zolf knows exactly how long it’s been since he’s gotten to eat anything sweet.

He sets the pastries on a tray and puts them in the little galley oven, keeping watch and flipping them halfway through. He brushes butter over them and sprinkles them with sugar when they’ve only got a few minutes left. The smell of the pastries wafts from the oven and fills the galley. Wilde will be working until nightfall and the man doesn’t take breaks, so Zolf isn’t worried about being interrupted and having the surprise ruined. Hamid wanders in as the pastries are cooling. 

“Ohhh,” Zolf watches as the halfling’s eyes widen and he reaches towards the sheet, seemingly without thinking. “What are these? They smell incredible.”

Zolf bats Hamid’s hand away. “Oi, those aren’t for you!”

Hamid tilts his head to the side and levels him with a smug, coy smile. “Who might they be for then, Zolf?” His voice is the perfect balance of feigned innocence and deliberate teasing. 

Zolf grumbles and then relents. “Alright, you can have _one_ if you promise to keep your mouth shut.”

Hamid beams at him and Zolf hands him a pastry, secretly satisfied when Hamid closes his eyes to savor a bite. Hamid leaves with his prize, sticking his head back around the door at the last second. “They’re delicious, Zolf. I’m sure Oscar will really like them.”

Zolf does not blush. _He doesn’t._

Zolf packs the pastries away in a little basket and tucks it away somewhere safe and secure for after dinner and after his nightly shift at the wheel. He gathers a number of blankets and furs from below decks and wherever else there are any lying around and tucks those safely away with the pastries before starting on dinner.

He doesn’t even pretend to look for anywhere to sit except for Oscar’s side anymore at meals. He always finds an open spot next to the man. The others have picked up on his little habit, on his obvious preference. They sit too close together and brush their fingers together under the table. Wilde’s contentment, his happiness is reflected in the smile Carter wears.

Zolf walks with Wilde back to his cabin. They knock together as they walk, never straying too far apart. Zolf hesitates at the door and Oscar take one of his hands in his and lifts it his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. It very nearly makes Zolf swoon. It does make heat rise in his cheeks. He’s stooped over low enough to reach Zolf’s hand with his lips without stretching Zolf’s arm too high up. The tall bastard. Oscar gazes down at him demurely, over the top of his knuckles, still poised just below Oscar’s lips.

“Will I see you later tonight?”

Zolf’s heart hammers. He feels like he’s in a bloody Campbell novel. He can’t bring himself to do anything but adore it and he can only muster the tiniest bit of embarrassment about how thoroughly he does. 

Zolf clears his throat. “Was about to ask you the same thing.”

Wilde straightens, and loosens his grip on Zolf’s hand. Zolf doesn’t pull it away, opting to tangle their fingers together instead. The sensation of Oscar’s long fingers wrapped around his is still novel, still thrilling. It sends sparks dancing across his skin. 

“So that’s a yes then?” 

Wilde’s wearing a hopeful little smile and Zolf aches to feel it against his own lips. He fists his hands in both of Wilde’s lapels, and pulls him down. Wilde’s smile widens against his lips and Zolf hums. Zolf pulls away, but doesn’t release him.

“Got a surprise for you.” Zolf’s eyes rove over Oscar’s face, cataloguing the pink that has risen on his cheeks. It’s easy to spot against his pale skin on a face framed by snow white hair. He’s pleased he can draw such a reaction. 

“For me?” Oscar asks, blatantly tracing the outline of Zolf’s lips with his eyes. 

“Mmhmm.” Zolf hums, and tilts his head up in invitation. They linger in this kiss, allowing it to grow more heated, licking and nipping at each other’s lips before pulling apart. 

Zolf releases him and Oscar straightens once again to his full height. “Can’t wait to see what it is.” 

His lips are reddened, kiss bitten, and they match the fetching flush of his cheeks.

“Meet me on deck ‘round the end of my shift.”

They smile at each other and Wilde slips into his room. Zolf misses the sight of him almost instantly and shakes his head at his own ridiculousness. He walks away feeling giddier than he ever did as a teenager with a crush. 

  
  


The night air is cold and crisp. There is no moon tonight and the stars stick out against the velvet blackness of the sky like iridescent pearls. He spends some time looking at the patterns of the stars, as he steers the ship, refamiliarizing himself with the constellations and their associated stories. Soon enough Wilde is strolling up to him and his wait is over. His face breaks open in a grin and Wilde’s smile mirrors it. Gods, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to stop being happy to see the man. He wonders when, or if, his stomach will stop doing that little flip every time he’s faced with the full force of that smile.

They chat until Barnes comes to take over, smiling at them knowingly. Zolf and Oscar bid him farewell and Zolf takes his hand, leading him away to the bow of the ship. He doesn’t care if Barnes sees. 

“Wait here.” Zolf says, sliding his fingers out of Oscar’s grip and going to retrieve the items he’d set aside earlier. He returns encumbered by furs and blankets, basket full of pastries perched on top of the blankets and wedged under his chin. 

Wilde is wearing an expression that can only be described as a sort of pleasant confusion as he watches Zolf spread the blankets and furs over the deck. He sits down and pats the space next to him and offers the basket to Oscar when he settles beside him.

“What’s this then?”

Zolf shrugs and gazes up at the inky blue-blackness of the sky.

_“Oh.”_ Oscar breathes, and Zolf tries to stifle his smile by biting his lower lip.

He glances sidelong at Oscar as he takes a bite, closing his eyes and humming with contentment. He opens them and smiles through his next bite, staring adoringly at Zolf.

“Did you make these for me?”

There are little crumbs and specks of sugar coating Wilde’s lips.

“They’re apricot.” Is all Zolf says in response. 

Oscar leans in and Zolf meets him halfway, licking the sugar and sticky sweetness of apricot jam from his lips. 

“They’re delicious, Zolf.” 

Zolf watches with contentment and satisfaction cooking warm in his belly as Oscar eats another two pastries. 

Zolf sets the basket aside and moves some of the pile of furs around, getting under it and holding them up for Wilde to do the same. Wilde nestles in beside him and Zolf lays back, placing his arm out to pillow Oscar’s head as he follows suit. 

Oscar turns towards him. “Stargazing, are we?”

“Good night for it.” Zolf affirms.

Oscar hides his face on the crook of Zolf’s neck. “You romantic sap.” He mumbles, and his warm breath tingles as it blows over his skin.

Wilde seems to regain some of his composure, and he settles on his back, hands clasped primly over his stomach on top of the furs and eyes trained on the sky. 

“Regale me with the tales of the stars, sailor of mine.”

Zolf snorts. “You’re the storyteller.”

“Constellations were never my strong suit.”

And so Zolf points out the constellations he knows, murmuring the stories he learned them with. He pours out Perseus, holding Medusa’s head and frowns, finding Andromeda and Cassiopeia nearby. 

“Oh, I think I know the legend for those.” Oscar says.

Zolf nods grimly. “Cassiopeia offended Poseidon, so they chained their daughter to a rock to be murdered by some terrible creature from the deep.”

“Perseus saves her, of course.” Wilde supplies and then frowns, “but then she has to marry him. And I’m not entirely convinced Medusa deserved her fate.”

Zolf hums in agreement. 

Wilde studies the sky for a moment. “You know, Cassiopeia could just as easily be shaped like a snake. Perhaps that constellation could depict a great water serpent instead, a protector of some gentle stream from harm. Andromeda is perhaps a woman the serpent has saved from drowning.”

Zolf turns towards Oscar. “And how would that happen, then. What would this great serpent look like?”

Something sparkles in Wilde’s eyes and he hums, gesturing with a band, waving it in the air and beginning to speak. “It would be a great beast, as large around as the trunks of the mightiest and oldest trees, with scales of immeasurable beauty that blend seamlessly with the color of the water it guards.” 

As Wilde talks, he spins the illusion of the serpent before them, beautiful and perfect, moving effortlessly with the stream of water Wilde describes it emerging from, undulating its body in a perfect mimicry of gentle waves. Zolf listens, enthralled as Wilde narrates his tale, crafting and changing the illusion with his words. It’s beautiful. The illusion and the story, and Zolf is struck by how effortlessly the words and magic spilled from his mouth. 

Zolf doesn’t know what to say when he’s finished and the illusion finally vanishes. “That was…” he trails off, licks his lips and tries again. “I really liked that.”

Wilde turns to look at him, cheek flat against Zolf’s shoulder, face inches from his own. He’s smiling and gods Zolf loves it when he smiles. 

“I’m glad.” Oscar reaches out for one of Zolf’s hands, laces their fingers together. Zolf tilts his chin up with a finger and kisses him languidly, growing tired but deeply satisfied by the comforting weight and warmth of the man in his arms. They spend a time curled up there, alternating between staring at the stars and kissing with varying degrees of urgency, but it becomes obvious that they’re both tired, and the cold has started to penetrate through the layers of warmth they’ve cultivated. 

Zolf sits up, and rises to his feet, holding out a hand and helping to drag Oscar to his own. They gather up the furs and put them below decks and Zolf leads Oscar back to his room. He’d like to be curled up next to him again, to fall asleep with his comforting weight pillowed against his chest. He doesn’t think Oscar will mind. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my darlings! And thanks to Zoë for the wonderfully inspired idea that the fruit Oscar doesn’t like is apples 🖤.


End file.
